


Married at First Sight

by iloveyou_threethousand



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, married at first sight au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24924532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyou_threethousand/pseuds/iloveyou_threethousand
Summary: In the City of Angels, true love can be hard to find. But what if a few brave souls, yearning for romance and a loving partnership, agree to a provocative proposal: getting married at first sight?
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 43
Kudos: 66





	1. Ep. 1: Hopeful, Desperate, and Maybe Just a Little Bit Crazy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sohox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohox/gifts).



> Hi! I've been hanging around this fandom for about a year now, but I've never written for it before because I've always been too nervous... and then I saw the lovely soho-x post on tumblr about a Married at First Sight AU and my brain wouldn't shut up until this was written. I'm thinking about 10-15ish chapters? I'll try to post every few days but I'm also in school and working rn so please don't hold me to that lol. I also don't have a beta so I apologize for random grammatical errors :/

“Goodness gracious,” Rhett mutters, eyeing the line that stretched out the door and halfway down the length of Figueroa Street. 

He briefly thinks about turning around and back-tracking the three-quarter mile trail to the underground parking garage where he’d left his car. The commute was a little over thirty minutes, plenty of time to convince himself that the fact that he had even _considered_ this experiment to be something akin to progress. 

When his therapist had prodded him gently, once again, about any new developments in his love life, Rhett had awkwardly mentioned the show to detract from the fact that he was still hopelessly single. 

“Maybe I should try it out,” he’d laughed half-heartedly, “it’s not like the professional matchmakers could be any worse than me at finding my soulmate.” 

Rhett had expected a forced chuckle in response or perhaps even a pursed lip at his use of humor as a defense mechanism, a habit they’d been actively trying to phase out for the better part of the last year. 

“You know, that idea isn’t half-bad.” His therapist’s lip twitched into a smile, “Maybe you should go for it.” 

Rhett’s eyes narrowed in on the man sitting across from him.

“You know I was kidding, right? There’s no way... my parents—I can’t, I mean... you’d have to be nuts to marry someone you just met.”

The man tapped his pen against his knee before quickly scribbling something in his notepad.

“You and your ex-wife... you were teenagers when you were married, correct?”

Rhett pulled at his beard, twisting the coarse hairs between his fingers, “I had just turned twenty. She was nineteen.” 

The man nodded, scribbling some more, “and you were married for almost ten years?”

“Yeah,” Rhett whispered, casting his eyes to the floor, “just about.”

“I’m not trying to open old wounds,” he said softly, “I’m just trying to say that you and your ex-wife were probably very different people after ten years of marriage than the bright-eyed teenagers that walked down that aisle. I know it seems a bit... extreme, to marry a stranger, but in a way... isn’t that kind of how marriage works? If you boil it down to its bones, marriage is just two people that mutually commit to love each other as they grow and walk through life together.” 

“You really think I should sign up for this?” He’s still a little bit incredulous that what was supposed to be a throwaway joke has turned into a life lesson, but somehow they’ve ended up here.

“I’m not going to tell you what you should do—that’s not my role. You have to do what’s right for you when you’re ready. All I’m saying is that this is the first time you’ve mentioned a plan to actively pursue something in your love life since your divorce, and even if it was for comedic effect, I think that’s something you shouldn’t overlook.” 

And that is how, exactly twenty-one days, a phone interview, and an insanely thorough personality test later, Rhett finds himself sandwiched between two other bachelors who, like him, are just crazy or desperate or hopeful enough to marry someone they’ve never met.

He’s thankful he’d decided to wear a T-shirt under his button-up because he can feel his skin sticking to the damp white fabric, but so far no pit stains have made it through to the outer layer.

The line has moved steadily forward in the brief time he’s been standing there, and a few dozen people are now lined up neatly behind him. There’s no way to inconspicuously head for the hills now—especially when he’s hovering over most of his fellow social experiment guinea pigs—so he reluctantly decides to stay. 

_Besides_ , he thinks, _there’s at least a hundred guys here—it’s not like they’re actually going to pick you._

He takes a look around, eyeing the other men vying for a spot on this ridiculous show. Some of them are making small talk with their neighbors in line, but for the most part, eyes are glued to phones and feet were scraping nervously against the ground. 

He wonders what their stories are; what series of unfortunate events drove them to stand in line under the hot sun in the middle of a perfectly good Saturday afternoon? Rhett thinks he probably has a lot in common with many of them—maybe, when the day is over, a few of them can get together and exchange sob stories over drinks and pretend it’s group therapy. 

About an hour later Rhett finally walks through the door to the conference center. A few steps in, a man with a laminated name badge reading “ _David H., Production Assistant_ ” slides him a clipboard and a pen. 

“Hey,” he smiles, “I just need a signature on all of the highlighted stuff. Feel free to take your time reading through them, there’s a lot of important mumbo jumbo regarding the nature of the show and a few things you will have to consent to in order to be considered as a candidate moving forward. When you’re finished, go ahead and bring it back to me and we’ll get you set up for your interview.”

All in all, there are about fifteen pages worth of information to read, and Rhett gives up on reading the fine print after the first three paragraphs. There’s a couple lines about mandatory filming, some required DNA tests, a section about prenups and, of course, the whole “ _the candidate agrees to a legally binding marriage with the partner provided by the experts at A &E Network_”. His signature floats across the pages, remarkably carefree for a man who is, in some sense, quite literally signing his life away. 

Rhett returns the clipboard to David and then is ushered down the hall into an empty conference-room-turned-waiting-area. A row of generically patterned chairs are lined up against the wall, and Rhett instinctively takes the one furthest from the door. 

He’s nearly finished an article on dog breeding in the Neolithic age when someone appears in front of him.

“Rhett McLaughlin?”

He recognizes the petite blonde woman standing in front of him—she’s one of the experts from the show. Though he’d never watched it himself, he’d seen her picture come up several times as he was researching what exactly he was getting himself into. Rhett stands up quickly and juts his hand out for an awkward, clammy handshake.

“Yeah, uh,” he stutters, letting go abruptly, “that’s me.”

“It’s really nice to meet you in person. I’m Stevie,” she grins, “the resident sociology expert. Ellie, our communication and relationship expert and Chase, our sexologist, will be conducting your interview with me.”

The nerves were suddenly taking over. Phone interviews and online questionnaires were one thing—they were generally informal, he could do them in the comfort of his own home and probably while wearing pajamas—but in-person interviews were a whole different beast. 

“The interview isn’t so bad,” she says softly, like she’s reading his mind.

“We’ve already vetted you for the big stuff,” she explains, guiding him toward another conference room at the end of the hall, “and we have some preliminary ideas for potential matches. In essence, we’ve got the 2D picture, and all we’re trying to do now is find out what you’re like in 3D. You’ll do great.”

They reach the end of the hall, and Stevie nudges the door open. 

“Ellie, Chase—meet Rhett McLaughlin.” 

Inside the room, three armchairs are arranged directly across from one solo chair. A camera crew is perched in the corner of the room, lenses already trained on Rhett, and he can feel his nerves start to kick in once again. 

“The cameras will be on,” Stevie says, after they’ve all exchanged pleasantries and claimed their respective seats, “and if you are chosen to be on the show, some of this footage will likely be used in the first couple of episodes. I know it can be a little overwhelming, but I promise that after a while you won’t even notice them.”

Rhett swallows the lump in his throat—he doesn’t really believe her, but she has such a calming presence about her that he feels less anxious nonetheless—and nods gently.

The first half-hour goes by relatively smoothly. They ask about his family, his hometown, his career, things he likes to do for fun; softball questions he’d already practiced in the mirror.

“So, Rhett, tell us about your past relationships,” Ellie starts, “and don’t hold back—we want to know about everything from your first middle school crush to your most recent fling. We respect your privacy, obviously, but the more information you can give us, the better your potential match will be.”

He’d been expecting this question, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t caught a little off guard. He started with the easy stuff—his first crush was the girl who lived two houses down in first grade. Amber was his first kiss—a product of teenage hormones and late-night dares—and he’d hung out with the girl he took to prom for a few weeks in high school.

“I met Jessie in college... she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I asked her out to come with me to a church cookout and then before I knew it we were engaged. We got married just over six months after the day we met.”

“And why did you end up choosing to divorce?” Ellie asks softly.

Most divorced couples he knew had an easy answer to that question: screaming matches that went well into the night, mile-long lists of broken promises, secret text messages and illicit meetings, etc. 

“Jessie and I both still had a lot of growing up to do when we got married. We grew up a lot together, but we also started to grow in our own directions. I have nothing but respect and love for her, but we realized that we weren’t in love anymore. Our interests pulled us in different directions. At some point we even stopped having sex.”

Rhett pauses, trying to figure out how to wrap up his failed ten-year-marriage into something relatively coherent. 

“I learned a lot of things about myself, and I know she did as well, and we mutually decided that we weren’t the best choice to make each other happy anymore. That was ten years ago. She remarried a little while back, and she’s got two beautiful kids. We don’t talk all that often anymore, but when we do, I can just hear it in her voice. She’s happy. Happier than she could’ve been with me.”

A few stray tears gather at the corner of his eyes, and he dabs them away with the fabric of his sleeve.

Stevie writes something down into her notes before giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Alright, Rhett. You’ve been wonderful. I just have one last question—why do you want do this experiment?”

He thinks about lying—or maybe just stretching the truth and saying his therapist put him up to it, but something holds him back. He usually hates the real stuff, having to express himself genuinely rather than through a layer of snark and humor, but this feels important. 

He doesn’t know if this answer is for the people in the room or for himself, but the confession starts to flow out before he can even try to stop it.

“The way Jessie smiles when she’s with her new family—the way she’s grown and adapted into that new situation so perfectly that I can’t even doubt for one second that that’s where she’s meant to be... I want that, for me. I want my second chance. For a long time I didn’t know if I would ever be able to commit to something like marriage again, but throughout this process I’ve just been so... excited. I still believe in love, and I’m ready to find it.”

It might just be the studio lighting in the room, but Rhett thinks he sees a few tears in Stevie’s eyes.

“Our applicant pool is at about a hundred candidates right now. Once the interviews are finished, we’ll whittle down that number until we have our three couples. Keep your phone close; I’ll give you a call in the next week or so if we decide to move forward.”

He moves to shake her hand when they reach the exit, but she pulls him into a hug instead.

“I’m rooting for you,” she whispers, reaching up to pat him on the back before disappearing into the labyrinth of conference rooms.

Rhett grins the whole journey back to his car, checking his phone compulsively even though he knows it’s going to be at least a few days before he hears any word from the network.

That night he’s lying in bed wide-awake. The whole thing is crazy, absolutely insane, and yet, he can’t shake the hope that’s crept into his heart and taken root.

Rhett’s still awake when his phone buzzes, and he answers in less than a second.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” the voice says, “it’s Stevie. I’m sorry to call so late. I hope I’m not waking you.”

“No, no,” he assures, “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“For some reason that doesn’t surprise me.”

He can hear the amused smile in her voice, and it takes everything in him to keep his cool.

“Listen,” she continues, after what seems like eons, “you were one of my favorite applicants, and I think you’d be a great fit. You’re extremely likeable, have a wonderful backstory and you have one of the highest compatibility scores with another applicant that we’ve ever seen on the show. I would take you in a heartbeat, but there is one thing...,” she trails off.

Rhett’s heart drops. He thought this was it—he’d stupidly gotten his hopes up and now she was going to send them crashing down. 

“Stevie, I really want to do this, whatever it takes--,” 

“Rhett,” she cuts him off, “I just need to know... how do you feel about getting married to a man?”


	2. Ep. 2: Relevations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support on the first chapter! Y'all are wonderful and amazing and I don't deserve you. As I'm working out the details for this story, I think I'm going to try to post 1-2 times per week, depending on my schedule. I have so many ideas and I hope y'all continue to enjoy it :)

Link shows up early, worried that if there was already a line by the time he arrived it’d be too easy to just keep on walking and not look back. 

He strolls right through the doors and up to the plastic-covered table that is seemingly functioning as a front desk.

A man in khakis and a T-shirt passes him a clipboard and pen, giving him a quick run-down of all the _i_ ’s to dot and the _t_ ’s to cross and within a few minutes, he’s following someone else down a long hallway.

“You’re actually the first interview of the day,” the guy explains, giving him a quick slap on the shoulder before nudging him toward the door, “so you can go ahead right through there and they’ll start the process.”

“Oh—okay. Perfect. Thanks,” he says, wondering if being the first to go through this interrogation gives him a leg up or just means he’ll be long forgotten by the time the last applicant walks through the door.

He’s by himself now, and he feels the butterflies threaten to fly right out of his stomach and into his throat as he mentally prepares himself for what is on the other side of the door. He’s trying to figure out if the best etiquette is to knock or to just stroll right in—a decision that’s seeming more life-or-death by the minute—when the door opens on its own.

Or, rather, someone on the other side ends his internal dilemma and opens the stupid door for him.

“Hi,” she says, reaching her hand out, “I’m Stevie.”

Link shakes her hand, embarrassed that his palms are definitely noticeably sweaty, but she simply smiles and gestures to the room.

“Come on in, we’re just getting the last few things set up.” 

A man behind a camera whispers something to one of the other crewmembers and nods to Stevie.

“Go ahead and take a seat, Link,” she motions to a chair a few feet in front of where her and the two other strangers are seated, “and then Ellie, Chase, and I are just going to ask some questions to flesh out what we’ve learned through your personality assessments.” 

“Tell us a little bit about your day-to-day life,” the other woman—Ellie—smiles at him. 

“Well, I spend a fair amount of time at my job. I’ve been an industrial engineer at IBM for almost twenty years now.”

“Damn, you must really love what you do.” 

“Uh... not particularly. But it pays the bills. I actually wanted to go to film school for the longest time growing up, but I made a last minute decision to pursue engineering and I’ve stuck with it ever since.”

“What made you change your mind?” Stevie asks, her voice softening as Link shrinks into himself and picks at the skin around his fingernails.

“My parents divorced when I was young—my dad wasn’t always around and my mom had to pick up a lot of the slack. We didn’t have much, and college was a luxury. I knew my mom would support any career choice I made, and she wouldn’t ever doubt me for a second, but I—,” Link coughs into his sleeve, trying to get rid of the pressure mounting in his throat, “—I couldn’t risk it, not when she worked so hard to give me a chance. It would’ve been selfish to take the gamble on film school. I didn’t even tell her that that’s what I wanted to do, because I know she would’ve tried to convince me to pursue it—it’s just the type of person she is.”

“She seems like a great lady,” Ellie smiles, “and maybe we’ll even get to meet her, if you end up on the show."

Link nods as the reality of everything starts to hit. He's in the later stages of the process, and every step brings him closer to actually going through with this ridiculous idea. 

"You obviously respect your mom’s opinion a lot; what does she think about your love life?”

“She, uh,” Link stutters, “I think she just wishes I was a little more... active, in the dating department. I haven’t exactly had a serious relationship since college. I’ve seen a few people here and there—mostly just blind dates that she guilts me into going on whenever I’m back in North Carolina, but I usually just use the fact that I live in California to avoid a second date.”

“Why do you think that is? Why are you avoiding a second date?”

“Um, I mean, the women she sets me up with are usually very nice—I’m from a small town, so I grew up with a lot of them. I’ve just never really had a connection with anyone I’ve dated up to this point. I’d probably give up dating altogether, but I’m pretty sure it would break my mom’s heart. I’m her only kid, and she’s wanted grandkids for so long, I almost feel obligated to keep looking.”

“Maybe you’re feeling worn-out by dating because you haven’t gone out with anyone who you’re genuinely attracted to—you’re putting most of your fate in the hands of your mom, who might mean well, but also probably doesn’t know the type of person that you really want,” Chase speculates.

“We have to get to the heart of _your_ heart,” he winks, “and the easiest and most fun way to start that process is to ask: if you could date any celebrity, who would it be?”

“Well, I’ve recently found out that this is an unpopular opinion, and maybe it’s just because I’m such a Star Wars nerd, but Adam Driver is definitely on the list. Oh, and, obviously John Mayer is an obvious choice--,” Link trails off as Stevie’s eyebrow shoots up. 

__

“Have you always had crushes on men?”

__

“I wouldn’t call those crushes... It’s not like I’m attracted to men in like a _physical_ way, really, I just—some of them have qualities that I admire.”

"Have you ever kissed a man?"

"I've gotten drunk and kissed a friend or two on a dare, but it wasn't a big deal or anything."

__

“Uh huh,” Stevie says, eyebrow still firmly quirked, “so you’re not physically attracted to men at all?”

__

“No... I mean, yea, some guys are attractive. That’s just, like, a fact. But it’s not like I’d ever get married to a guy.”

“Hm,” Stevie mumbles, scribbling into her notepad, “but you would date a man?”

Link crosses his arms and leans forward in his chair, trying to get a glimpse at what on earth she could be writing down.

“If you’re asking if I’d say yes if Adam Driver walked up and asked, “hey, would you want to grab dinner with me?”, then yea, I would date a man... but that’s just because Adam Driver is objectively attractive. Who _wouldn’t_ say yes to that? That’s normal, right? Are you going to sit here and tell me that if Natalie Portman barged through those doors right now and asked you on a date, that you’d say no?”

“No,” Stevie says, finally looking up, “of course not.”

“Well there you go,” Link says, feeling like he’s just won some kind of argument that he was only half aware he was having.

“But also,” she pauses, “I’m super gay.”

It takes approximately thirty seconds for Link to process those three words. About two seconds after that, he’s shooting up from his chair and out of the room.

“Hey,” Stevie says, sliding down to the floor to join Link in the spot he’s chosen for his nervous breakdown, “I didn’t mean to push you in there, and if there’s anything that you want to be purged from the camera footage, I’ll make that happen. You just say the word.”

__

Link’s head is between his knees, and Stevie can feel his racing heartbeat through her hand that’s slowly rubbing circles on his back.

__

“I’m not gay,” he finally whispers after several minutes of silence.

__

“I never said you were.”

__

“But you think I am.”

__

“It’s not my place to assume what your sexuality is. Your sexuality is _yours_ , Link. It doesn’t matter if you’re straight, gay, somewhere between or somewhere outside those categories—I support you. I’m just trying to figure out what kind of person would be the best fit for you and give you the best chance at a long, happy marriage.”

__

Another few minutes pass, but Stevie makes no move to leave.

__

“I feel like,” Link lifts his head up and leans back against the wall, “I’m seeing my whole life flash before my eyes. I’m re-watching all the scenes that never seemed important before through a whole new lens. Am I dying? Is this some kind of purgatory?” 

__

Stevie snorts air out of her nose, “something like that.”

__

“I was ten when I found out I was a lesbian. I was watching one of my mom’s sappy soap operas, bored out of my mind, and then the two lead actresses started making out on screen in the middle of the afternoon. One second I was confused and angsty and then—boom—I realized all those girls I thought I liked because I wanted to be friends with them were actually girls I liked because I thought they were pretty and I wanted to _be_ with them.”

__

“I’m almost forty,” Link breathes. “How can I just now be questioning my own sexuality?”

__

“Something tells me you might’ve known this for a long time, but you’re just now coming to terms with it. Maybe this is like film school. You’re taking the safer option, even if it’s the one that’s not who you are. And you probably have good reasons for that. But let me ask you this: if I could promise you a perfect world, where you didn’t have to worry about money or reputation or anything—what would your life look like?”

__

He doesn’t even have to think about it.

__

“I’d be a filmmaker. Of course.”

__

“Yeah,” Stevie smiles, “I thought so. And in this world—who are you coming home to at the end of the day?”

__

Link squeezes his eyes shut and tries to picture it. He sees a house—small and warm, with lots of plants and eclectic knick-knacks, disheveled by the bustle of everyday life; perfectly organized chaos. There’s a small studio, and a loft-turned-creative space, and when he looks over the balcony at his perfect life, there’s a person standing next to him, grinning as if he can see the contentedness radiating off of Link’s face.

__

“I’d come home to my husband,” he sighs as a bead of moisture slips past his closed eyelids and streaks down his cheek.

__

“Link,” Stevie prods, “why did you sign up for this experiment?”

__

“I just thought that, maybe if I did something as crazy as this, if I just ripped the band-aid off, I would finally be able to settle down with a nice girl and get married. Ha. I guess that’s off the table now.”

__

He starts to stand up, wiping his cheeks with the fabric of his sleeves before extending his hand to her.

__

“You should probably get back to your other interviews. Thanks for putting up--,”

__

“Link,” she cuts him off, “I want you to be on the show.”

__

He abruptly drops her hand.

__

“If it’s too much, too soon, you can say no. I would never want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for and set you up for a failed marriage. But—I think this experiment is an opportunity to be the most _you_ that I suspect you’ve been in a very long time. I’ve been dying for more representation on this show, to let people like you know that they are perfectly normal and valid and not alone.”

__

He mulls over her proposition, trying to take deep breaths lest he end up with his head between his knees on the carpeted floor again.

__

“I just don’t know,” is what he eventually settles on.

__

“I understand. It’s a standing offer, so if at any point you decide you want to take me up on it,” she scribbles a phone number onto a scrap of her notebook paper, “feel free to reach out.”

__

She pulls him in quick and pats his shoulder, “Don’t be a stranger.”

__

Link doesn’t remember much of his trek out of the conference center or the first leg of his Uber ride; his brain is caught up in replaying the events from the day that seem more unrealistic the closer he gets to his home. It almost feels like one big dream.

__

Maybe when he gets home he’ll pretend it _was_ all a dream. He can still find a perfectly nice woman and settle down into a perfectly nuclear family that he supports with the money he makes from his perfectly stable job. 

__

His mind wanders as he visualizes it, and before he can stop himself he’s picturing the warm eclectic house again, only this time he’s standing in the doorway to his bedroom. He’s facing away from the bed, as if he’s attempting to leave, when a voice stops him.

__

“Link, where are you going? Come back to bed.”

__

His voice is soft and kind and strikes a feeling inside of Link that he’s never experienced before, and he wants to turn around and get a glimpse of the mystery man more than anything he’s ever wanted before, but the Uber stops in front of his house and yanks him from his daydream.

__

He gets out of the car and shuffles through his keys before finding the one to unlock his front door. As he walks into his house, it feels emptier than it did before. Colder. 

__

_This experiment is an opportunity to be the most you that I suspect you’ve been in a very long time_.

__

His fingers unconsciously pull the scrap of paper from his wallet and begin typing.

__

_Hey, it’s Link. I’m in._

__


	3. Ep. 3: Congratulations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's been a minute. I got a little in my head, but I have lots of ideas for this story and I think I've found the motivation to continue exploring them. Thanks to everyone that's been following this--y'all are wonderful and so kind--and I promise that the boys will meet each other in the next chapter (...at their wedding :)))))

Previously on _Married at First Sight..._  
 _“Rhett, I just need to know—how do you feel about getting married to a man?”_

Rhett liked to think of himself an open-minded person, an interesting paradox considering his upbringing as a small-town southern boy growing up under the watchful eyes of the devout evangelicals that lined the block and the pews on Sunday morning. In reality, he could probably attribute a good deal of his adaptability to his childhood—after decades of having his six-foot-seven frame shoved into a tiny square box, he never wanted to place those same impositions on himself, or anyone else, ever again. Despite his increasing interest in exploring new things about himself—a process catalyzed by his therapy journey—he’d never really delved into his sexuality. 

He’d gone to a small school in rural North Carolina. Everything he knew about dating came from informal post-game Q and A’s in the back of the bus with his basketball team and the lovey-dovey mixtapes he’d stolen from his older brother’s room that were presumably intended for whatever girl Cole was dating at the time. The word _homosexual_ was something he’d only ever heard in church alongside a sharp warning that almost always included the words _hell_ and _damnation._

The traditional bible-belt trajectory launched him into marriage with the southern belle he’d met in college long before he ever even considered to question the idea that love was only valid if it existed between a man and a woman. The passage of time and his move to California coincided with an increasing awareness of the LGBTQ+ community, but he loved his wife, and even during their worst moments, Rhett had never entertained the thought of a relationship with another person. 

Even after their divorce, the idea of dating someone else was incredibly daunting. Jessie was his first real kiss. His first time being intimate. He had gotten married under the premise that _this is it,_ and to have to start from scratch again was overwhelming enough to paralyze him into remaining single for years. And then, on a whim, he’d made one half-joke to his therapist and somehow ended up on the phone with a TV producer asking if he was ready to commit to marriage. To a man. 

“Rhett,” Stevie asks gently, “you still there?”

“Uh,” he says, attempting to form a coherent sentence but failing spectacularly.

“It’s okay to freak out,” she says, “this is a lot. I understand that. You might think I’m insane, and honestly, you’d probably be right. We’ve never done anything like this before, and I’m only even suggesting this because, in all the years I’ve been doing this, I’ve never seen a compatibility score like this. And on all the personality measures we took, your openness to experience was something that repeatedly stood out. I get that being open-minded does not mean you’d be willing to marry a man—especially because you never made any indication that you’re not straight—and if you say no, we’ll try and find you a new match, no questions asked. But I just... I had to at least put this on the table.” 

Rhett takes a few seconds to process everything she’s said, and for her part, Stevie waits patiently and silently on the other end of the phone.

“I’ve never--,” Rhett hesitates, “I’ve never even thought about dating a guy. Let alone marry one. I don’t even know...,” he trails off, not knowing where to end that thought. It’s true, though. He _doesn’t know._

The rational part of his brain is telling him to just thank her for the opportunity, that this experience has given him some surprising insights into his own psyche, but that he’s in over his head. 

He feels like he’s perched at the top of a building, heart thrumming in his chest, staring down at the ground below, and Stevie has just asked him to jump. For a second, he thinks this might be what a panic attack is like.

Except—he’s never really been afraid of heights. He’s always loved skiing, loves the feeling he gets at the top of the mountain right before he goes racing toward the bottom. He thinks back to the first time he got off the lift, the twinge of fear that almost made him turn around, sit his butt back down and take the safe ride back to the lodge. 

He remembers looking over to his roommate, Gregg, who must’ve recognized the trepidation on his face.

_“Hey, man. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”_

Rhett had simply grinned and shook his head.

_“Like I’m going to let you have all the fun,”_ he’d said, propelling himself off of the bench and down the slope, quickly pulling ahead of his friend and calling over his shoulder, _“last one down buys dinner!”_

“You’re one of my favorite candidates, Rhett,” Stevie says, snapping him out of his flashback, “and I want to find someone for you that you’ll be happy with. There are a few female candidates that I think could be a great match for you. I can look at the profiles again in the morning and hopefully give you a call by the end of the week--,”

“No,” he stops her suddenly, surprising himself.

“Oh,” she says quietly, just barely giving away a hint of disappointment before collecting herself, “I understand. I shouldn’t have thrown all this on you. Well—I wish you the best on everything, then, and maybe if we’re ever back in town you’d consider giving it another shot--,”

“I mean,” he quickly corrects, “I want to do it. To marry this guy you were talking about.”

Stevie pauses, but Rhett thinks he can hear her smile through the phone.

“You’re sure? Because you can take some time to think about it, if you need.”

“Gender aside, you think he’s the best match for me, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, “I really do. But I also know that sexuality is an extremely delicate thing, and I want to make sure you don’t feel pressured to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

The thrumming in his chest is still audible, but it’s warm and comforting and, all at once, he realizes it’s not nerves causing the beating of his heart—it’s excitement. He’s not quite sure what to make of that, but a smile breaks out across his face. 

“If you would’ve told me a month ago that I’d agree to marry a guy I’d never met, I would probably refer you to my therapist for some psychiatric help. And there’s a chance this will all blow up in my face, but that’s the risk you take with marriage, right? Yesterday I was willing to marry a person I knew nothing about. I’m still not sure what my sexuality is, but I’m open to a new experience. Y’all said that everyone worries about being physically attracted to their new partner, so even if it was a woman you were setting me up with, there’s no guarantee that we’d, you know, _connect_ on that level. At least, in my mind, I don’t see why this would be any different. I want to be happy, and if you think this could work, then I guess I better try.” 

“Alright then,” she says, and once again he can hear her beaming through the phone, “Rhett McLaughlin, consider yourself engaged. I’ll be in touch over the next few days to walk you through the next steps, and in two weeks, you’ll be a married man.”

“Huh,” is all he can manage to say.

“Try and get some sleep. I’ll see you soon. Oh—and congratulations on your engagement.”

The call ends, but Rhett doesn’t move the phone from his ear, scared that if he stops feeling the warm glass against his face that he’ll wake up and realize he was dreaming all along.

_Engaged._

When he finally falls asleep, hours later, the grin never leaves his face.


End file.
